od-morning."

"Let us be thankful," rejoined Pranken, "that she has not yet
remarked,--As my departed husband, Professor Mummy, used to say."

The two men spoke without any change of expression, so that no one
heard or observed them.

Upon a great table lay a number of packages, each inscribed with a
name. The Professorin, with Fraeulein Milch, had made a list of the boys
in the neighborhood of Roland's own age, who were to have presents
given them on his birthday. They were mostly apprentices about to set
out on their travels, laborers on the Rhine boats, or in the vineyards:
some poor and needy persons had also been thought of, and for every one
a suitable gift was provided. In the middle of the table lay a large
envelope which Sonnenkamp had hastily placed there on his entrance, and
on which was written: "For my friend and teacher. Captain Doctor Eric
Dournay."

Roland's quick eye soon discovered the envelope, and he handed it to
Eric, who, on opening it, found a package of banknotes to a
considerable amount. His hand trembled; for a moment he looked about
him, then replaced the bills in the envelope, and advancing to
Sonnenkamp, who was standing by Manna and Pranken, and had just spoken
some words in a low tone to the latter, held the envelope towards him,
and, in a voice so agitated that he could scarcely enunciate a word,
begged him to take back his gift.

"No, no; do not thank me; it is I who should thank you."

Eric's eyes were cast to the ground, but he raised them and said,--

"Excuse me, I have never in my life accepted any present, and am
unwilling--"

"A man of independence like you," interrupted Pranken, "should waste no
words on the matter. Take the gift as cordially as it was given."

He spoke as one of the family, almost as if he had presented the money
himself. Eric stood abashed, not knowing how to refuse the gift without
seeming ungrateful and over delicate. As his eyes fell upon Manna, a
pang shot through his heart at the thought of having to appear before
her, on this first morning, as a needy receiver of money. He looked at
her as if imploring her to speak to him, but she kept silent; seeing no
other course open for him, he drew back the hand which held the
package, and soon after disappeared from the room.

Without, in the park, he walked thoughtfully to and fro for a while,
then, sitting down on the bench where Bella had sat, opened the
envelope and counted the money; it amounted to